The Charade
by Prudence Chastity
Summary: AU: Stuck in the confines of a proper lady's raising, Michiru waits years to fall in love with the wildchild, Tenou 'boy.' Finally with the woman of her dreams, Michiru fails to mention Haruka's true gender to her family, a facade Haruka's happy to maintain. Fun, laughs, & love holding out the charade. HarukaxMichiru. AkanexReiko, Setsuna mothers Hotaru. Outers' story w/o powers.


"You look beautiful, Ms. Kaioh." Jun, her faithful lady-servant and lifelong attendant complimented from her side, where she knelt, smoothing down the flowing bottom of Michiru's long dress.

"Thank you," Michiru gazed at the reflection bouncing back at her in her handmirror. In a long, mint, silken dress, the blue of her eyes emanated in starker contrast than they usually seemed to the green-blue waves of her wavy locks. She wasn't wearing make-up, not for tonight when she'd only be dining with her mother and father downstairs tonight, but she'd been well-dressed enough to impress at a ball, let alone a simple super. But it would please her mother to see, and if Michiru wanted one thing while dining with her parents, it was to keep her mother happy and unable to nit-pick. "That's enough, Jun." Michiru stopped, lowering her mirror. There was a wide, oaken vanity right before her, but Michiru preferred her hand-held when she could help it. She had a certain affection for that mirror.

"Would you like me to comb your hair now, Ms. Kaioh?

"No, Jun," Michiru put down the small mirror, "I will do that. Would you tell mother I'll be down in ten minutes?"

"Of course, Ms. Kaioh," her kindly, dark-haired maidservant curtseyed on her way out and disappeared out her bedroom door a moment later. Michiru sighed softly, casting a longing glance to the Giuseppe Guarneri del Gesa gently lying against the wall by her sitting chair and music stand. One of her favorite violins of her collection, the music called to her spirit to be sung; she'd only barely managed to get settled today before mother moved up dinner two hours, which had cut right into her music time this evening. It made her a little lonely to abandon the violin prematurely, but Michiru understood her parent's important appointments, theater, and leisurely pleasures. Her music would have to work around mother's scheduling, as it always had.

Michiru put down mirror to the table and picked up her brush next. Careful and starting at the bottom as mother had always instructed Jun to keep the tangles from pulling her hair out, Michiru started at the bottom and made her way up. She brushed slowly, a bit purposefully, reluctant to leave her violin just yet. She should've told Jun to leave it out when she ate, but if the girl put it away, Michiru might just pick another of her violins anyway to go out to the beach with that night. She'd find her time for the relaxing instrument, even if it had to come later than expected.

When Michiru finally finished brushing through every bit of long hair until it was all silky and smooth again, she reluctantly stood and made her way to the door. At least her parents had to go somewhere after this, so dinner wouldn't be as long as usual. Michiru wasn't really in the mood to discuss her recently 'failed' matchup with mom.

Descending the oak-furnished stairway with the long, red carpet laid out, Michiru's dress grazed the floor in the back, but didn't cause a misstep as she came through five ground-floor rooms of butlers and busy servants to reach the dining quarters. Her mother looked up as she entered and smiled warmly at her appearance. "Michiru, do join us." Michiru made her way to the long table's end where her parents sat and seated herself to the left of the table's head, where her father always sat. "You look beautiful, my girl."

"Thank you, mother," she looked to the butler holding out her chair and gave a little nod of thanks as well.

Michiru turned back to the table where her long-haired, pristinely elegant mother sat upright without a smooth hair out of place. Tall, gorgeous, with long, straight-laced hair of her coloring, Michiru's mother was a lady in every sense of the word. There wasn't a speck of her mother that wasn't proper-laced or sophisticated. With the most fashionable styles on the market, a long familial history of excellence and pose, and a well-known fortune to support the most noble upbringing money could buy, it was no surprise her mother respected such proper and appropriate behaviors for reputation's sake.

"Michiru, we've been waiting for you."

"I'm sorry, Father," Michiru apologized, "Moving dinner up ran into my practice. I had to set it aside before Jun insisted on fitting me for dinner as mother asked."

"A lady is never late," her father, a very well respected and admired business owner in Tokyo, was just as much fond of a noble upbringing as her mother. Though he hadn't been raised with the riches and lineage her mother had, Yuuto Kaioh had built his way up from a wealthy middle-class family to the elite, established businessman he was today. Owning over six different companies in Tokyo alone, he and her mother, Miyu, had met over an arrangement that'd ultimately led to father taking her mother's name in marriage. Though such wasn't very common in Japan, Miyu had the longstanding reputation and lineage of near-royalty behind her name. As one of three female descendants, all were expected to carry on their name, which Yuuto had accepted gracefully enough, bearing the lesser titles. He'd been fully adopted into the Kaioh family under the traditional practice of mokoyoshi.

With well-established businesses in the busy city, her mother and father had moved out to more spacious grounds, with their current home in the sweet, rolling valleys of Yakodayo with the sea stretching on for miles under the waterfront mansion on the mountains. They'd preferred a quieter setting, and Michiru agreed with her home's location, at least. She loved that stretching sea beyond.

But her father had grown a strict man coming up into the family name of Kaioh, and he didn't tolerate what he considered breaches of their position's behavior very well. Michiru didn't really fault her father for this; both of her parents were proper, and her father had had to grow into that to take the Kaioh name. He meant well, even if he came off a little harsh. "If you hadn't been late for Akio, he may not have hurried to run out on your date."

Michiru inwardly sighed, though she might've expected this from her father. He didn't know everything, of course, but when Akio, mother's latest match-up, had cursingly left her room in a huff, Dad hadn't exactly been happy over her 'insults.' "He only wanted one child, Father," Michiru told, respectful, "It wouldn't have worked out."

"That does not mean you can be disrespectful to him!" Yuuto snapped in that firm tone that wasn't quite shouting, but forceful enough to make up for it.

"Father," Michiru didn't rise to snap back the way she might've done in younger, youthful days of growing up. Instead, she appealed to the businessman in her father. "He does not even own estates. His family barely inherited the single mansion they now live in only on the fortunate death of a distant cousin, and he had no mind for finery or economics. Their family fortune will be spoiled to waste in a matter of years with that kind of firstborn. I didn't realize you wanted me to pick up a leech for our family's fortunes."

Yuuto's dark brows furrowed together harshly, "What's this?" He questioned, "I've spoken to his father extensively. He is a great man of business with a growing career. It is why I told your mother to look into the family."

"His father might be brilliant," Michiru allowed because she didn't know either way, though she half-doubted it by the son's intelligence. "But he is not. He'll ruin his father's business in two years, I'd give it."

"Michiru," her mother slightly reprimanded with a look. "They boy would be daft by how you say it."

"He _was _daft," Michiru addressed both her parents' startled faces and her father's disgruntled look. "He didn't know an Amati from an Artisan, Mother."

"Not everyone knows violins, Michiru. That is something you could teach him." Miyu tried to tell her.

"I doubt anything would penetrate that head. It wasn't as if he even had an interest for finery, Mother," Michiru lifted the mid-sized fork to cut a small portion off the roasted duckling on her plate. "He's dull-witted and lazy; wanted one child, a _boy_— like I can control that— _and _spoke like I would take _his _name. He was filthy arrogant without any credentials. I didn't _think_ we should be dragging the family name down, Father."

Miyu sighed in that way she had of emanating disappointment. Father seemed a bit angrier about it.

"That's exactly the kind of attitude that will leave you husbandless for life, Michiru! You're twenty-seven years old and unwedded! Most girls are years ahead of you already!"

Most girls are unhappy, Michiru wanted to say, and didn't. "He wasn't the one, Father."

"Which is?" Yuuto demanded, "Who knows how many suitors you've declined already? I lost count when you were twenty. You're not going to find a man who'll happily have your twenty-some children, appreciate your gifts in fullest, who comes from a reputable background with every quirk you like and respect about him, Michiru!"

She rather doubted that too, sadly. Michiru had given up on finding any man gentle and unselfish enough to fill her expectations or more, actually love her instead of viewing her as a trophy wife for her family name, wealth, and respect, but even when she'd decided she should settle for her family's sake and that of having children, none of the men even came close to that standard either. She really had tried to lower it to find just _one _of them she could imagine herself being with, but they didn't even meet _those_ qualifications.

In truth, Michiru didn't even want a man in her life at all. Her household held enough confining restrictions under how she ought to act and behave, she hardly wanted those to spread into her private life too, the only place she got a mediocre of freedom on trips and ventures away from home. Any man would cut into those freedoms; it was a sad fact she'd grown to accept, but not yet give herself over to it completely. Michiru valued that independence she had. She didn't dream of some unrealistic visage of a perfect gentleman; she did dream of other partnerships though…

It was something she'd never told her mother or father; something she'd never tell either of her parents for the sheer 'scandal' it'd cause for their family, but Michiru's interest in men fell much shorter than finding most of their traits unattractive. They wouldn't know about that, though.

"I don't expect to find someone perfect, Father." Michiru vied, "I just don't want to settle that low for someone."

"Michiru," her mother sighed again with that tired voice. "We just don't want you to end up alone, my girl. It's not right for a woman to live alone; we won't be here forever to take care of you, and you can't bear children alone."

"Mother," Michiru had a feeling she knew what was coming after that. "I'll pick someone eventually. I just don't want to be pushed to it."

"Pushed," her father almost snorted, but in his dignified fashion that wasn't actually a snort. "You've been dismissing men for ten years all for some silly reason or another. You need to be wed, Michiru. It's not dignified for a woman your age to have gone this long without it. You'll be out of your birthing years if we let you continue on like this."

"Let me?" Michiru caught with that growing bad feeling.

"Michiru," her mother re-drew her attention back, "I've been speaking with the Hu's family. They have a son you may find you like. His name is Shigeru and he comes from a healthy background."

"Mother!" Michiru's hopes drained; this was not the short conversation she wanted to have with her parents before they left. "It hasn't even been two weeks since Akio. I'm not ready."

"Somehow," Miyu's light eyes caught the light, almost amused by the protest, "I think you'll survive the extended heartbreak from Akio."

"But— "

"Young lady," Miyu warned in equal fatigue and chastising, "After all the men you've declined thus far, a mother can't sit and fret and do nothing while her child ages. I want you to see Shigeru, Michiru. Perhaps he will be the one."

"And perhaps he won't be!"

"You'll go into this with an open mind, Michiru!" Her father ordered in that stern, sharp voice. "You've already made yourself a pariah of marriageable material for your mother; people talk when a woman rejects as many suitors as you do. You're lucky your mother speaks with a silver tongue to our partners and extended friends, else we'd have no one to even court you anymore."

If that didn't feel like enough of a gut-shot, her mother added, "You'll need a partner for our annual ball anyway, Michiru. And I've heard Shigeru cuts quite a dashing figure in a tux. He's a fashion designer too, you know. Owns his own brand line."

Michiru barely restrained a groan. "How old is he?"

"He's thirty-eight."

It was better than forty, but not by much…

"When must I see him?"

"I do wish you had a better attitude than that, Michiru. It's probably why most of them fail to impress you." Mother shook her head with a _tsk. _"I've set up meeting for him to take you out to lunch this Saturday after a runway of his clothing line."

"This Saturday?" Michiru's spirits were fast in falling, "But the annual ball's not for a few months!"

"I believe you'll hold on to this one," her mother said, like she said about all the men presented to Michiru that she rejected. "I have a feeling. The one you'll pick is approaching, I know it. Your mother has intuition too, my girl. Please give him a fair chance."

Michiru glanced to her stern father, who gave her that ordering look. "Listen to your mother, Michiru," he said more like an order. "Much as you might think so for your mother's efforts, there isn't an endless supply of wealthy families we can keep borrowing sons from. Shigeru is a firstborn whose previous wife just passed this last year. He's coming all the way from Japan's Northern border to meet you. Be respectable to him."

She couldn't really call it unfair for all the men she'd gone through denying, but it sure felt that way. Michiru lowered her eyes to the food on her plate and sighed.

**XXX**

Haruka raised her hand from the open-top Toyota 2000GT, one of her favorite and most frequently used models outside of racing. Setsuna noticed the yellow car immediately with Haruka inside and quickly made her way over. Opening the back door where Hotaru sat strapped into a car seat in the middle of the car, Setsuna climbed in from there with a friendly greeting as she settled in the back seat and shut the door. "Haruka," Setsuna reached out to the child she considered her own and gently touched Hotaru's cute cheek. "Thank you for watching her today. I know you wanted to go to the tracks and practice. How was she?"

"She wasn't a problem," Haruka forgave easily, never put upon when it came to babysitting little Hotaru. "She slept half the afternoon, and I just gave her some milk and changed her before coming here, so she should be okay for a little bit." Haruka put her car into gear and glanced back at them in the rearview mirror where little Hotaru made gurgly noises and grabbed her finger, saying 'mama.' "What about the conference?" Haruka asked. "Did it go well?"

"Very," Setsuna glanced her way with a smile until she saw Haruka watching them in the mirror. "Eyes on the road, Haruka."

"I know how to drive," Haruka grumbled, but obeyed for her peace of mind.

Setsuna went on when she saw Haruka behaving again. "Anyway, the fashion conference went well," Setsuna shared, explaining about her work as a designer where she'd had a chance to impress some big commercial companies with some prototypes today, "They've invited me to a Runway presentation in Yakodayo this weekend where all the most prestigious companies will be watching to take in whole clothing lines to their production. There will be individual families as well looking for private design hire— people like the Genji's, Heishi's, Kaioh's, Hokke's and such. It's a very privatized event, and even the companies keep the designs in private markets for very exclusive bidders. If I even impress one family or company, I'll have enough work to be set for years."

"The Yakodayo Runway…" Haruka mused over it in her head. "My grandfather probably received an invitation."

"Oh, Haruka," Setsuna chastised with a surprised edge to her voice, "You don't have to come to that."

"Don't have to come to the biggest stepping stone in your career?" Haruka checked back in the mirror again with a small smile. "That doesn't sound like a strategic plan."

"You don't like posh company," Setsuna pointed out, long, beautiful hair floating back on the wind in a starkly green stream. Sometimes, depending on the way the light hit it, it looked black with green highlights. It made her look like Hotaru's real mother so much more when the light caught her coloring like that. Either way it was, Haruka's best and closest friend was flawlessly beautiful. It'd been what had drawn her to flirt with her the first time she'd seen her, and though they weren't together anymore –a long and conflicting story later— Haruka had managed to keep her as a friend. Her only friend, really, or the only one that truly mattered or knew anything about her anyway.

They lived together now, but it wasn't as a couple. When Setsuna had adopted the orphaned Hotaru from her former head physics CEO employer, Haruka had come to a mutual decision over it with her. She wanted to help and knew Setsuna's budding designing career would take a hit if she tried to raise Hotaru on her own, so being the only woman who loved and actually knew her, Haruka had welcomed her into her home to help care for Hotaru, the little one they were both growing to love.

"Don't you have a race this weekend anyway?" Setsuna asked, referring to _her _career this time as a well-known race car driver across Japan.

"I can skip it," Haruka brushed off, unbothered by the commotion this might make amongst her fans and rivals. Some things were just more important than that. "And as long as you're there, I'll endure the posh company. Besides, Hotaru says she wants to go watch her mommy's Runway."

"Hotaru can't speak yet."

"The wind told me it's what she wants."

Setsuna shook her head with a gentle roll of her eyes, but Haruka could see her smiling about it. She turned her eyes back on the road before Setsuna could chastise her again.

"People will talk," Setsuna warned one last. "They'll gossip over you missing a race for my Runway."

"Let them talk," Haruka brushed off, quite too used to the lies and gossip columns of the media to really care much anymore. Not when it came to her, anyway. Setsuna was a different story. "Besides, someone has to fend off the lunatics from you. Not gonna leave you alone again to be mugged by my fangirls."

Haruka remembered the last time all too clearly when one of them had come up and physically attacked her. It wasn't that Setsuna couldn't watch out for herself, but the fact that the girl had been acting on her behalf out of some delusion of their relationship was enough to set Haruka on edge every time. Her fingers tightened on the wheel. They both got fanmail, hatemail, yells, catcalls, screaming, and battling to get to them, all that paparazzi nonsense, but never a direct, fan-fueled attack before. Setsuna had refused to take a security detail after, but Haruka hadn't lost that war entirely yet.

"We'll be okay," Haruka felt a hand on her shoulder and glanced back again to see Setsuna happy with little Hotaru babbling, only half making sense, but at least speaking some actual words as she did so. Setsuna squeezed her shoulder with that little gleam in blue eyes that sparkled warmth. "Thank you, Haruka."

**XXX**

"Do you think I'm being too demanding?" Michiru asked from her sitting spot on the rock. A little to her left, her chestnut-haired friend, Akane Karasuma, stood gazing out of sea waters that stretched for miles farther than the eye could see. Beyond Akane, her girlfriend and lover, Reiko Aya, walked along the beach a little further, light blue strands almost luminescent in the dark. Akane claimed it was how she kept track of her.

"Of the men? Certainly," Akane looked on after her girlfriend walking barefoot along the water. "But you deserve to be," Akane added, "I doubt you'll find one like you want— especially of your mother's picks, but there's nothing wrong with wanting the best of all evils for yourself. You will have to live with him the rest of your life... Live with him, pleasure him, put up with his hopes for male children and shit… And that hair!" Akane shuddered, "Sounds ugly."

"You're very reassuring," Michiru thanked, distressed by the absolute truth of Akane's words.

"Sorry," Akane apologized, "It just doesn't seem worth the hassle, Michi. Even for kids. A husband won't disappear so easily when you need a break from all the posturing. And at this rate, _any _man you accept is going to treat you as his trophy wife that no one else could break. It's not worth giving them the satisfaction, if you ask me."

"Akane!" Reiko called out suddenly from her spot down the beach, raising both their heads her way immediately. Knowing Reiko, that sudden outcry could mean anything from a fish bite to an electrifying eel sting, but before Akane could make her way to her, she was already racing back, light blue hair fluttering behind her in the moonlight.

"Reiko, what's wrong?" Akane asked anxiously, taking her girlfriend's hands in hers as she appeared before her to check her body for injury.

"Look," Reiko opened her hands in Akane's to reveal something Michiru couldn't see from her position. "Isn't it pretty?"

"Reiko," Akane put a hand to her head and shook it. "I'm trying to talk to Michiru about her bleak future with a man. Show me your stone collections later."

"It's aquamarine," Reiko continued on to tell her, "For Michiru. She likes aquamarines."

"Oh…" Akane blinked. Reiko pulled her clasped hands from Akane's and walked the few steps to Michiru's rock, holding out her hands with the bluish-clear stone.

"Michi, feel better," Reiko wished in that innocent, adorable way she had about her. "Not everything about a man is bad."

Michiru took the small stone in her hands, which had a slight wave-like shape to it. Despite Reiko's unseemly timing about these things, she was touched. It was just Reiko's way, and it did help. "Thank you."

Reiko smiled at her and turned back to Akane, who frowned with a deep scowl. "What do you mean, 'not everything about a man is bad?'"

"There are good things," Reiko answered, not picking up Akane's tone or seeming to mind it. Michiru's eyes went back to the little stone in her hands of crystal blue that'd already gone clear at the top from sun exposure. Reiko just had a way with these things, it really was sweet. "Men are sturdy and strong," Reiko informed them. "They will protect you. And! You can conceive in making sweet love to a man. We cannot do that, Akane."

"What?" Akane barked, "What would you know about that? You don't know about men!"

Michiru lifted her eyes back to them and saw Reiko flat on the sands of the beach, stretching her arms and legs wide in motion to make a sand-angel. Smiling, Reiko lifted a hand to her lover and asked, "Help me make the floating angel, Akane."

Still growly, Akane reached out an arm and latched it to Reiko's, who counted, "One… two… three!" Before Akane pulled her up in a miniature jump off the sand to keep her angel from having footprints near it. Reiko slid into her arms easily from the springboard, glanced back over her shoulder with a happy smile to the angel, then nuzzled her cheek to Akane's shoulder comfortably, "See, Akane?" Reiko warmed her cheek, body pressed in to hers. "You're strong as a man."

Akane stiffened in holding her. The whole thing made Michiru smile. She yearned for a relationship like that, like her friends had. Well, not _exactly _like that, but Akane and Reiko's feelings for each other ran so deep, it was hard not to yearn for it a little. Michiru just wanted a good woman like they had in each other.

But Michiru wouldn't have that. Not now, nor ever. It was the sacrifice she'd made years ago when she'd first realized, and it was the only thing she could hold out for her parents. To admit her sexuality would shame them in unimaginable ways, so Michiru didn't and wouldn't for all her life. But going one point beyond that to find a man she would marry pushed too far. Michiru valued her independence, and the last thing she could imagine was a life like which Akane had described… stifled in every aspect by some man looking to control her. Michiru couldn't extend that far.

And so, when the weekend came, she'd be sorting through another mess. Maybe someday, when they were older and tired, Mom would stop trying, and Dad, stop lecturing her on the importance of a 'wholesome' family. Michiru would happily adopt and raise children to continue their legacy, which they would finally accept out of desperation alone, but until that time, Michiru had always had one more to burn through. And one more, she would do.

Shigeru was just another faceless man of the hordes, and Michiru wouldn't succumb to him.

**XXX**

"Yours were wonderful," Shigeru complimented, "Such modern perception! I'm sure you'll be approached after displaying such a line. Many women enjoy that cutting-edge class of contemporary class. I think you'll do well with us, lady."

"You're too kind," Setsuna put off, honestly not sure if she were more proud or embarrassed by his compliments. A known artist of the trade, Shigeru's opinion should hold a lot of weight and mean something, but his utter flamboyancy was more than a little surprising. With her trade came all types, Setsuna understood, though she hadn't met anyone quite this energetic since her first and last visit to the Chibi-Chibi stylings of youthful conventions.

"Really," Shigeru insisted, "You must show me that trick with the twisting. It was absolutely sensational!"

"Setsuna,"

Setsuna glanced up from the man a good head and a half shorter than her at the familiar call to see Haruka in a dashing white suit, approaching with little Hotaru held to her, "Oh, Shigeru, if you'll excuse me…"

"I know how that is," Shigeru winked at her and bobbed his quaffed little dark-haired head. "Go get him, tiger." Setsuna unexpectedly yipped with an encouraging little slap to her butt shared with a smile from Shigeru before he turned away to other designers. It also summoned Haruka to her side in an instant.

"Did he just—"

"Haruka," Setsuna put an easing hand to her shoulder, stepped in, and kissed Haruka on the cheek. "Thank you for coming to my poised event."

Haruka's sharp green gaze cut into Shigeru's back mercilessly. "He touched you," Haruka hissed. Setsuna just shook her head with a small smile.

"And you wonder why people think we're still together," she stretched out her arms to take little Hotaru from her and cradle her little girl. "Haruka, stop glaring. The man's gay, for heaven's sakes."

Haruka ignored her or didn't seem to process those words because she looped her arm into Setsuna's free one in a second. "Let's get some hors d'oeuvres." Setsuna adjusted Hotaru in her arms and shook her head, letting Haruka lead her off to another table of appetizers. "Has anyone approached you yet?"

"Not yet," Setsuna shared, full of nervous energy about it. Shigeru had spoken highly of her and the audience had seemed to enjoy her designs, but there were a lot of other well-established designers here. The companies and families may not want to risk taking a chance on a new up-and-coming one such as herself.

"They will," Haruka said and sounded rock-solid sure about it. "The way they were talking about you, I wouldn't be surprised if half the families approached you."

"Oh, Haruka," Setsuna smiled at the sweet exaggeration. Maybe half of them had _liked _her, but a new designer such as herself wouldn't receive that much attention. Even if it were true, different families sought different styles for their personal use and stores. Haruka was sweet to say it, though.

"Excuse me, Ms Meiou?"

"Told you," Setsuna turned around with Haruka, releasing her arm to face two pretty women, obviously mother and daughter by shared inheritance of a unique, teal-green hair coloring. While the older woman showed her age a little more in facial creases caused by age and stress, the younger looked remarkable, youthful version of her parent with blue eyes instead of gray, which may have discolored in the older over time. In small, fitting dresses that fell gracefully over elegant figures, the two might've been show stoppers in a presentation, their beauty was so refined.

"Ms. Meiou, correct?" the older one asked to double check.

"Yes, that's me," Setsuna confirmed, eyeing over both of them to see if she could recognize them. She should with that hair, but the name was slipping her mind.

"We're very happy to meet you, Ms. Meiou. I'm Miyu Kaioh, and this is my daughter, Michiru."

"Oh!" Setsuna realized her blunder. The Kaioh's, of course! How could she forget this family name? She would jab Haruka later for not nudging her with her family's business rivals. "Mrs. Kaioh, it's a pleasure to meet you both. Please, call me Setsuna." Mrs. Kaioh's eyes traveled to her companions, which Setsuna rushed to introduce as well. She indicated her companion first, "And this is my friend, Haruka Tenou."

"Haruka Tenou," Mrs. Kaioh repeated, drawing her attention too, "My, it's been awhile since we've seen you at these functions now. You probably don't remember me from the last event I saw you."

"The Triffid Ball, was it?" Haruka asked, and Setsuna noted later to hug her for remembering such a thing. "I forget the year, but I believe your daughter played her first solo violin melody for us there. Tell me, Lady Kaioh," she asked, facing Michiru this time, "Have you named that beautiful melody yet or do you choose to number your compositions?"

Even Michiru, who'd been content with letting her mother handle the conversation, seemed startled and utterly surprised at Haruka's recollection of the time. Haruka's charms could take one off guard, Setsuna knew. "I… it was a very early composition," Michiru finally said, surprised eyes seemingly failing to get a read on Haruka. "I'm afraid I might've lost it."

"That's a shame," Haruka went on, and Setsuna herself couldn't really tell if she was laying it on that thick or just being that incredibly charming. "Your composition was beautiful. You still play, I hope?"

"Yes…" Michiru confessed in that still-taken-off-guard tone, like she'd never quite been charmed like this before. Setsuna couldn't really blame her; Haruka had a solid foot in the act. She had a feeling Michiru wasn't quite used to it, which was silly, considering the many compliments she must've received before. "Yes, I have continued composing."

"I can't imagine how much more graceful you could've become, but perhaps Setsuna and I will attend an orchestra of yours to find out." Michiru seemed a little guarded, which was good for the girl, but that slight, confused hint of curiosity was there as well.

Her mother practically beamed, looking between them. She finally settled on Hotaru, "Setsuna, darling, is this your child?"

Setsuna righted Hotaru in her arms fully. "This is Hotaru," she introduced, and the little black-haired haired girl, who'd been remarkably quiet until then, reached out her little arms to Michiru and said:

"Pri- tee."

Setsuna almost blushed. She'd accuse Haruka of coaching the little one to be so charming, but Hotaru wasn't old enough to understand long sentences or coaching. She still barely pointed to her stomach and called it 'tummy' right half the time. It was like both her family had mutually decided to crank up the charm without her this morning.

"I'm sorry," Setsuna apologized, lifting a hand over Hotaru's extended little hands reaching for Michiru, "She likes to be held by people. She can't walk yet, so Haruka and I reckon it's how she likes to feel like she's moving around, switching between us." But when Setsuna next glanced up to Michiru, she found the girl staring at Hotaru with such longing in her eyes, it was almost painful.

"She's beautiful," Michiru said, purely wistful eyes trained on her child. It wasn't quite so normal among these proper folks, but by the pure longing in her eyes and Hotaru's apparent desire to be held by her, Setsuna asked.

"Would you like to hold her?"

Michiru's eyes lifted to Setsuna in that same shared surprise again, like no one had asked her to hold their baby before. "May I?" Michiru asked without even a glance to her mother or care for the properness of this.

"Hotaru seems to want it," Setsuna nodded. Carefully taking a step closer, she held out her child and told Michiru, "Like this," as to how to hold Hotaru in her arms, then carefully, nuzzled Hotaru into Michiru's grasp.

"Pri- tee," Hotaru said again of her limited vocabulary, then went, "Ma-ma!" in reaching for her. Michiru melted in an instant with a full face of love. It was kind of beautiful.

"Are you the father?" Setsuna heard Ms. Kaioh asking Haruka as she tended Hotaru with Michiru.

"No, no," Haruka corrected like she always did, "Setsuna and I are good friends, is all. I like to help her take care of Hotaru, but we're not involved like that."

"She seems to like you," Setsuna smiled to the star-dazed girl as Michiru lifted a hand to her baby and Hotaru reached for her and laughed.

"She's gorgeous," Michiru breathed, almost in reverence, and only broke her eyes away to glance at Setsuna after a long moment of playing with Hotaru's little fingers. "You're very lucky, Setsuna."

"Thank you," Setsuna thanked and let her hold Hotaru a moment longer for how it lit up everything beautiful in this woman. "You're very good with her. Do you have any yourself?"

"I'm unmarried," Michiru confessed with her eyes fast back on Hotaru, which did nothing to hide the longing there. Setsuna couldn't be more surprised by the confession. Michiru was a beautiful girl; she'd have thought she'd have more than enough suitors to sweep her away the very day she came of age to be arranged. Setsuna also understood the connotation behind being unmarried—where Michiru couldn't have any herself. In truth, she must've stuck out more for it, here with a friend, unmarried and with child, but Michiru didn't seem to have a problem with any of that.

"And what do you do, Haruka?" Her mother asked beside her, and Setsuna noted to save her friend when she could for Haruka's hatred of proper airs and scheming mothers trying to place her with their daughters—if only these proper ladies knew she was a woman, how fast they'd repeal those offers.

"Would you design for me?" Michiru asked suddenly and frankly, seemingly out of the blue. "I watched your designs down the runway," Michiru elaborated, looking up to her now, "Mother and I wanted to reach you first. If you're still looking for hire, we're prepared to beat any other offer you may have received or will tonight. You'd be designing specifically for me, and we'll pay additionally to keep the designs you make for me to my family. I can guarantee you'll make just as much as privatized companies pay, doing a lot less work if you contract with us."

It all hit Setsuna so suddenly; her first and best offer currently being made from one of the riches families in Japan for exclusive designing for Michiru. She was stunned. "You can think over it," Michiru added, "Mother will probably pester you for an answer, but take your time. There's no big hurry." She played with Hotaru's little palm one last, dancing a finger onto it so Hotaru could latch on and laugh. "Your little girl is beautiful," Michiru complimented one last time, giving her baby such eyes of love, it was hard to believe she wasn't a mother herself.

"Thank you," Setsuna said as Michiru reluctantly handed back her cradled child. "For everything," Setsuna added, "Your offer, I'll— I'll get back to you quickly on it. You're very generous, Lady Kaioh,"

"Please," Michiru corrected her, "You're older than I am—there's no need for formalities. Call me Michiru."

Setsuna smiled, "Thank you, Michiru."

"You might want to save your friend," Michiru additionally suggested quietly with a glance Haruka's way and to her mother, "Mother looks like she's plotting."

Setsuna gave her polite, sympathetic look. "Forgive me; Haruka garners that kind of reaction more than you know. I can't imagine any of your family being too terrible about it, though."

"Lady Kaioh," a voice otherwise summoned, turning her and Michiru to the voice as Shigeru appeared at their left. A head shorter than even Michiru, the designer took her hand and bowed. "Oh, Lady Kaioh! You must be Michiru."

Michiru looked on with eyes that said she'd been through this many times before. "Shigeru?"

"Oh, Shigeru!" her mother finally distanced from Haruka. Setsuna stepped back a foot to hand her over Hotaru for excuse reasons if she needed them from another parent. "How wonderful to see you," Ms. Kaioh went on, "Perhaps you and Michiru should have a private little chat on the balcony before dinner, hmm? I can take care of our offers, Michiru. You two should meet."

...or not. Setsuna stood corrected.

"Not him again," Haruka muttered, made moody by Shigeru's reappearance.

"Ladies," Shigeru greeted, the top of his black head showing thinning areas as he bowed to them. "My pleasure is yours, truly."

"'Ladies,'" Haruka mumblingly whispered in mocking, "'My pleasure is yours,'" Setsuna discreetly nudged her in the side. Haruka shot her a sidelong glare. "She better not be buying this."

If the exasperation in Michiru's eyes was any indictor, she wasn't. Michiru cast a sidelong glance back, clearly not really wanting to leave yet.

"Go on, now," her mother urged. "I will… make arrangements, Michiru."

Michiru sighed and started off with the short designer. Haruka didn't look very happy. "This is why I hate these events."

Setsuna smiled a little, unable to help a bit of amusement seeping through at Haruka's strong instincts. "Is that why? It's a wonder I can take you out in public at all."

"A girl that talented is wasted with men like that. He probably can't even read sheet music."

"Haruka, _I _can't read sheet music."

"Shh," Haruka hushed, too preoccupied with glaring after him, "She can do better, is the point."

Setsuna raised an eyebrow, half taken in all. Haruka sounded as defensive as she got over her with another guy; she didn't even know Michiru. Setsuna glanced back over to the disappearing couple before Ms. Kaioh appeared before them again. "Setsuna, Haruka; might you join us over dinner this evening? We can lay out the full details of your contract, Setsuna. We will familiarize— "

"Yes," Haruka said before she could even finish, "We would love that." She looked to Setsuna as if in afterthought. "Would we love that?"

Despite being put on the spot by Haruka's single-mindedness, Setsuna was rather amused… and intrigued. Haruka acted out against men she felt wronged by, yes, but her possessive nature was taking quite a turn tonight. Whether it was more because Shigeru had spanked her or her affinity for pretty girls, she'd just accepted a _second _invitation to a posh event. Setsuna considered this borderline crazy from her. "We would love that," Setsuna confirmed, "Thank you."


End file.
